Chapter 301: Usurping the Role, Laying the Board, Memories of the Past

Lu Yan’s action seemed simple, but in truth, it carried a profound interference with strange rules and even causality at the highest level.

He knew very well that the platinum invitation thrown out by the Seven Great Orthodox Churches was far from an ordinary one. At its core was a rule at least equivalent to a Zero-Rank Sealed Item, layered with the power of the seven Archangels—a blatant stratagem laid bare for all to see.

To accept the invitation?

That would be no different than stepping into a preordained framework of rules, allowing himself to be drawn into their game. At this so-called Banquet of Divine Revival, there would certainly be traps laid by True Gods. Even though Lu Yan could temporarily conceal himself from the Archangels, he had no way to withstand the means of a being who was this world’s sole existence. The real nature of Fengdu and the Underworld would likely be exposed.

And that—was absolutely unacceptable.

To reject the invitation?

Putting aside the strange rules behind the divine invitation and the hidden dangers it carried—just the act of refusal alone would send a signal of fear and weakness. That alone was enough for those aloof and arrogant Archangels to draw their conclusions and possibly make a direct move.

Regardless of whether he could truly resist the rule embedded in the invitation, choosing to oppose or avoid it would only reveal more information and allow the enemy to probe his depths.

Though Lu Yan had just ascended, successfully condensing an Imperial Aspect that combined Divine Court Order with the aura of the Old Ones—his power had made a qualitative leap.

But he was also clear-headed.

Compared to those at the very peak beneath the gods, those who wielded unique authority and could even bear the descent of divine will, he still had a long way to go.

If a head-on clash were to occur—especially if they acted in unison—he would have no chance of victory.

Therefore, in this seemingly desperate situation, there was only one path forward.

Break the rules, reverse the game, and turn guest into host!

If they had laid the framework to trap him, he would shatter it.

If they extended an invitation through twisted rules, he would reverse that same mechanism and send it right back to them.

And Lu Yan just so happened to possess the power to do this.

His Imperial Aspect, rooted in the essence of the Old One’s Corpse, already carried the information of myriad Daos since the birth of the Esoteric Version—naturally including the strange laws that constituted the Underworld Banquet Invitation.

Using the Imperial Aspect as a foundation, and wielding the supreme divine ability Cycle of Creation and Transformation—which governed the very rules of creation and reversal—he could alter and reverse the twisted laws inscribed on the platinum invitation with ease.

This was nothing less than a dimensional-level strike—the upper realm crushing the lower.

Only by doing so could he exhibit overwhelming strength and mystery without exposing his core cards, making it impossible for the seven Archangels to discern his true capabilities.

Only then could he seize the advantage in future power struggles.

At that moment, within the seven secret divine temples—some hidden deep underground, some floating in heavenly realms, and others shrouded in eternal darkness—seven figures radiating holiness, awe, or eerie mystery, all gazed upon the black-golden invitation before them.

Low murmurs drifted through the temples, accompanied by strange phenomena.

“How interesting.”

Under the eternal light of the blazing sun, the Sun Archangel’s voice carried the amusement of one who reigned supreme.

“What brazen arrogance.”

Beneath the shroud of night, a slender silhouette spoke coldly, filled with disdain for this outsider.

“The Underworld’s agent… is quite the intriguing one.”

Within an endless sea of books, the Archivist slowly raised a quill and recorded the contents of the invitation into an ancient tome.

“To reverse a twisted law… his understanding of the Old Path is deep.”

In the Steam God’s sanctuary, the white-robed youth’s gaze pierced all illusions, analyzing with machine-like calm.

Whatever they felt, the truth remained the same.

Lu Yan, the mysterious emissary of the Underworld, had used an utterly unexpected method to secure total initiative in the first round of their hidden confrontation.

Sensing the emotional feedback carried by the seven black-golden invitations—shock, scrutiny, wariness—Lu Yan stood quietly at the center of the meditation chamber, his face devoid of satisfaction.

His gaze was deep and solemn.

This… was only the beginning.

The true contest had yet to come.

He turned to Elizabeth, who still stood respectfully beside him. Though she had yet to recover from her shock, Lu Yan spoke with steady calm:

“I will soon invite the seven Archangels to a banquet. Right now, the Seven Gods are not fully awakened—they can only project their power through the Archangels. If those seven accept the invitation, they’ll withdraw their gaze from the mortal world. This… is our only opportunity before the full awakening of the gods.”

“I need you to handle a few matters.”

Soft whispers echoed through the royal palace’s secluded chamber as Lu Yan’s voice calmly relayed his commands to Elizabeth.

As she listened, Elizabeth’s expression underwent a dramatic transformation.

From stunned disbelief… to fear and dread as she grasped the plan’s risks and implications… to trembling awe at its sheer scope and potential consequences.

But when Lu Yan finally revealed the full layout—backed by boundless confidence and commanding presence—all those fears dissipated, transforming into a fanatical reverence.

“I shall obey… Your will!”

She inhaled deeply and steadied herself, replying in a voice that brimmed with resolute devotion.

With those words, her figure silently merged into the shadows and vanished into the depths of the palace to carry out Lu Yan’s will.

Now, only Lu Yan remained in the chamber.

He looked toward the distant locations of the Seven Great Orthodox Churches, the corners of his lips curving into a faint, meaningful smile.

He took a step—and instantly his figure merged with illusion and reality—stepping into the Underworld that lay between life and death.

The second step brought him into the Yellow Springs, a river containing both the Dusk of Doomsday and the vast night sky.

RUMBLE—!!

It was like an illusion—or perhaps it was real.

At the very moment Lu Yan stepped into the Yellow Springs, all seven secret divine temples trembled as the Archangels within heard a terrifying sound—a colossal, soul-shaking current flooding their minds.

It wasn’t ordinary water… it was a tide from the high-dimensional beyond, a flood that cleansed all and brought ultimate extinction, imposing itself upon the real world.

Then—space within each divine temple twisted.

A massive, hazy river manifested—deep yellow and ancient, filled with the aura of death and finality. Though only a projection between reality and illusion, its presence shattered boundaries of space and history, violently forcing its way into places meant to be untouchable.

These temples, hidden in the seams of existence, were the sanctuaries and power cores of the Archangels—untouchable beneath the True Gods themselves.

And yet Lu Yan had breached them.

Why? Because when he reversed the twisted rule and sent the invitation, he created a causal link between himself and the seven temples, giving him the vague coordinates.

With those, he could draw upon the Yellow Springs—now ascended after devouring the River of the Esoteric Version.

The Yellow Springs no longer represented just geography.

After consuming the ancient river that bore an entire civilization’s reincarnation system, it became a metaphysical presence embedded in the timeline of all known history. It could appear wherever there was memory of death or civilization.

Even the divine temples… could not stop it.

The seven Archangels, radiant and mysterious in their own ways, now gazed silently at the vast river that cut through their divine temples.

The Steam Archangel sensed the aura of Divine Court Order and the vestiges of countless versions embedded within.

The Knowledge Archangel flipped through ancient memories and saw the dying history of the devoured river.

The arrogant Archangel of Sunlight sneered at the river’s illusory nature.

The Archangel of Night, however, cared little for the Yellow Springs. Her gaze lingered instead on Lu Yan behind it.

Yet no matter what they thought, they could all feel it.

The invitation had bound them with inescapable rules—and the Yellow Springs now stretched out like a bridge before their eyes.

As beings who stood at the peak below True Gods, they had their pride—and would not show weakness in this silent contest of dominance.

Without hesitation, the seven Archangels stepped forward and entered the Yellow Springs.

The river surged.

Their forms were engulfed.

Reality twisted and time collapsed.

When light reformed again—the Archangels stood no longer in their temples… but in a crumbling shrine.

This was the Temple of Yellow Springs, the place where Lu Yan had invited them—not some magnificent divine palace, not the rumored grand splendor of the Underworld.

Instead, what greeted them was a dead silence—decay, violence, and ruin.

The beams and pillars were crooked. Cobwebs hung everywhere. The air was thick with dust and rot.

The golden statues that should have been worshipped were shattered—some nothing more than remnants. All their faces… had been erased, smoothed by some unseen power.

The ancestral tablets on the altar had also been broken—save for one at the center.

It stood cracked, as if cleaved by a sword imbued with absolute sharpness.

The cut was clean, decisive, and still exuded chilling intent.

And on that broken plaque—one mangled but transcendent character remained:

Immortal! (仙)

At that moment—even the proud Archangels felt their blood run cold.

A single word—just one character—yet it carried the wail of fallen Immortals across the eons, descending upon them through endless time.

“What… is this?”

“‘Immortal’… Could it be connected to the Xianxia Version’s Ancient Ones?”

Chaos surged through their minds.

Almost instinctively, they suppressed their auras—afraid to disturb whatever lay behind that broken plaque marked “Immortal.”

Only then did they notice Lu Yan, seated calmly on the only intact meditation cushion before the altar.

With his current strength—he could have created a glorious divine hall with ease.

But Lu Yan didn’t need opulence.

He needed something that could intimidate these seven beings standing at the very peak.

If built purely from his own power, any flaws would be exposed.

But to construct a hall that could rival their level or invoke fear… was beyond his current reach.

So he gave up.

Instead, he turned inward, searching his own memory.

And what he reconstructed was the Ancestral Hall of the Taiyi Sect.

It wasn’t chosen for splendor—but for its meaning.

For in this very hall, the Taiyi Sect’s mysterious First True Disciple had once wielded a sword that severed the past, present, and future—erasing all karmic threads tied to their founder, and killing the ancient Immortal Taiyi.

This place… bore the mark of slaying an Immortal.

Even though it was but a memory reborn through divine ability, and far from the real thing—it was enough to suppress the seven Archangels.

With a flick of his hand, seven meditation cushions appeared before him.

Lu Yan’s tone was calm:

“Please—take a seat.”

(End of Chapter)